


Blame the Tequila: Chapter One

by gemini_cole



Series: Blame the Tequila [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemini_cole/pseuds/gemini_cole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Frankie have a booze-fueled one night stand. Will they be able to handle all that happens next?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame the Tequila: Chapter One

“Yeah the Love Shack is a lil ‘ole place where we can get together-errrrr…..” Francesca “Frankie” Vandeveer sang at the top of her lungs, shaking her hips as she danced around her kitchen, waiting for her ancient Keurig to sputter out a cup of coffee, her third of the morning. She wasn’t sure if it was the caffeine or the 80’s playlist blaring in here ears, but she was in an exceptional mood. Especially exceptional given that she had a writer’s block the size of the Berlin Wall. Suddenly Frankie heard an explosion of applause behind her. “Fuck and alas!” she screamed, spinning around to come face-to-face with her best friend (and only friend in London,) Tandy. Grinning ear-to-ear like a Cheshire cat, she twirled a key ring from her sparkly pink fingertips.

            “House keys, remember? They come in handy for times like this.” She grinned, tucking them back into her purse, as Frankie attempted to recover her composure, annoyed at having been caught.

            “Those were supposed to be for _emergencies,_ Tand. And it is way too early for an emergency. So what is your excuse?” She turned, grabbing her mug, dumping in sugar as she reached for the milk in the fridge, waiting for Tandy to respond. Given that there was a long pause, Frankie knew that Tandy was working up to asking for a favor. Grinning, Frankie turned back to face Tandy, sipping her coffee. “Come on. Out with it. Whaddya need?”

            Tandy bit her lip, a hopeful look on her face. “Umm…for you to be a lifesaver and cover part of my shift tonight?”

            Frankie rolled her eyes, sighing. “Why would I want to do that? I have no desire to come crawling home at three in the morning smelling like stale beer.” Tandy worked at a local pub part time to cover her share of the bills while she waited for her modeling career to take off. Given her statuesque blonde looks, it shouldn’t be much longer before she was taking over for Gisele on catwalks all over the world.  Formerly roommates themselves, Tandy and Frankie were best friends practically since birth, although Frankie now had a flat to herself, while Tandy still lived a few blocks away with their other roommate, the hellacious Jessica. While Tandy was laid-back, easy going and non-plussed by day-to-day roommate issues like laundry and dishes, Frankie most assuredly was not. Hence, she got place of her own, far away from the roommate from hell, Jessica. No love lost there.

            “Pleeease?” Tandy whined. ‘I have to take Nigel to the airport tonight. And if everything goes on time, I can be back at the pub by eleven or so, and you can be done and gone. Pretty please? I really want to see Nigel off; I won’t see him for a month! And, you can keep any tips you make!”

            Frankie snickered. “Well, I should hope so. I am going to be the one serving them all their blasted pints, am I not?” Walking past Tandy into the living room, she settled herself down in front of her computer, the blank word document mocking her with it’s blinking cursor. Fuck, she hated writer’s block.

            Tandy squealed, jumping up and down behind her. “Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou! You will not regret this! Ok, knowing you, you probably will. But at least you’ll make some _dinero_ out of it, right? Or maybe some colorful stories for working out your writer’s block. Either way, win-win, right?”

            Frankie grinned back at Tandy. Only she could turn a chore like bartending into a “win-win” scenario. “Ya know, you are lucky I love you so much. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone. Can I at least raid your shoe closet? I’ve been dying to wear those new Louboutins that Nigel bought you.” Sadly, shoes were the only size Frankie and Tandy had in common. Where Tandy was tall and model-thin, Frankie was petite, and well… _blessed_ , as Tandy so laughingly put it.  While she wouldn’t go so far as to say blessed, Frankie knew she definitely had some curves, and the love-hate relationship that went with them. Frankie messily shoved her long hair out of her face, looking for a hair tie, as Tandy wandered toward her bedroom, mumbling something about her closet. No doubt she was taking it upon herself to choose Frankie’s outfit for the night. Frankie sighed, slamming her laptop shut and going after her. Clearly no writing would be getting done today.

 

 

            Later that night, Frankie walked into the back entrance of Finigan’s Pub. She shook her hair back out of her face, the long waves shimmering against the black leather jacket she wore. She peeled it off and shoved it along with her purse in Tandy’s locker in the backroom, before making her way out front. Luckily, she had come here so many times, both with Tandy and to visit Tandy at work, she was a regular, and Mark, the boss, thought nothing of Frankie working for Tandy tonight. In fact, he welcomed the change in pace. Tandy was a gorgeous girl and kept the boys coming in, but Frankie could do both that and take shit from the regulars and give it back as good as she got it, which was a necessity for a bartender, if you asked a seasoned vet like him. It didn’t hurt that Mark also thought eventually he and Frankie would be a “thing.” Never mind that he was nearly twice Frankie’s age, and still dressed like it was 1985. Mark’s leer at Frankie didn’t go unnoticed as shook her head, smiling to herself as she made herself at home behind the bar. Some things never changed. It was a typical Friday night, with the usual mix of regulars at one end of the bar, and various groups of university kids, couples, and some dudes playing darts in the corner, as the music blared. It didn’t take long for Frankie to settle into a rhythm, and hours passed as she served up pints, poured shots, and laughed at the old-timers jokes. During a lull in the action, Frankie grabbed a tray, and set about clearing some of the tables in the back. Before she could get very far, she was jolted forward as a large, definitely male hand smacked her ass. Frankie turned to see a dark-haired man towering over her, leering. One eyebrow raised as he spat out “Did ya like that luv? More where that came from.” Frankie settled her tray on her hip as she considered the situation.

            “Well. Frankly, I’ve had better. But clearly, you haven’t, or your technique wouldn’t be lacking such as it is. Pity for you that you won’t get a second chance!”

            The man’s jaw dropped. This was clearly not the response he was expecting. Frankie grinned as she took the tray back to the bar, praising herself for her quick mind. Who said you couldn’t use your words to ditch a bully? Humming to herself as she noticed the party in the back signaling for a refill, she made her way back to grab their pitchers. Before she could make ask what they were drinking, a hand snaked around her waist, and she felt hot breath against her ear.

“You know luv, some men don’t take kindly to being sassed in front of their mates.”

            Great. Drunky Drunkerson was back for round two. Frankie tossed her hair back defiantly. “Then some drunks should learn to keep their hands to themselves!” She elbowed him, attempting to wiggle her way out of his grip, but he was just too strong. She felt, rather than heard him chuckle, as he squeezed harder, his hands sliding further up her hips. “I like a girl who fights back! Makes it more fun for me!”

            Frankie gritted her teeth, and spat out, “That’s because you have a prick the size of a tadpole, you drunken fuck! Let me go!”

            “I think she asked to be let go, mate.”

Frankie turned at the additional voice, using the lull to wrench herself away from Drunky. She sized up this new man. Clearly he had a death wish. While he was a good 3 or 4 inches taller, this guy was thin, with a runner’s build, where Drunky was built like a brick shithouse. Frankie stood in the space between them, as they sized each other up. ‘God help us all,’ Frankie thought, ‘if they fight each other. Dude’ll get his ass handed to him.’ Suddenly Mark worked his way through the crowd, breaking up the commotion. Glancing at the drunk, who still had Frankie’s arm in a vice grip, he wrenched the drunk away, hauling him towards the back entrance, yelling about house rules, and no hands on the bartenders. Just like that, the situation was over. Frankie blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“No thanks necessary. Just glad I could be of help.”

Frankie turned back to glare at this new man. “Um, I had the situation under control! Do you know what you almost did? How foolish it was? Jesus, he would have kicked your ass into next week and sent this whole bar with you! Now, I don’t know about you, but I really would not have enjoyed that.  Maybe next time, you let the bar employees handle bar issues!” She huffed off, stomping back to the bar, letting the man stand there, mouth agape.

She needed a break. Signaling to Mark, she slipped into the back room. Sliding boneless into a chair, Frankie drew a ragged breath. Despite her harsh words, she actually had been scared shitless. Sometimes she wondered how Tandy did it, then she remembered that Tandy rarely left the relative security of the bar, preferring to let others clear the tables. Usually this was cause for Frankie to mock Tandy and call her a princess, but after tonight, she could see the merits. Sighing to herself, she glanced in the mirror, reapplying her gloss, and tousling her hair before she went back out to the bar. Only a few hours left, she could do this.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully. She poured more pints than she could count, and laughed at and took several cell phone pictures with several bachelorette parties, even going so far as to share a couple of shots with them.  Suddenly she heard that impossibly posh voice again, asking “could I get a double Jamieson on the rocks, darling? If that isn’t too foolish, that is?”

Turning around, Frankie locked eyes with the man once again. Shaking her head ruefully, she fixed his drink, sliding it across the bar. Now that she wasn’t panicked with fear, she could see he wasn’t a bad looking guy. He was tall, with wavy auburn hair, sparkling blue eyes, an infectious smile, and that great voice. Not that she was looking. The last thing Frankie needed in her life was a dude she met in a bar. Been there done that.

“So, do you make a habit of making a fool of yourself in bars?” Frankie asked.

He considered her question as he took a drink, finally replying, “The fool doth thinks he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.”

Grinning, Frankie replied, “So you knew you were being a fool but didn’t care? Wow. I don’t know if that’s brave or stupid.”

“I was going for heroic. I always wanted to be the guy who saved the damsel in distress.”

Frankie raised an eyebrow as she replied, “Buddy, I am no one’s damsel. And I don’t care how much Shakespeare you quote, as the movie goes, ‘Stupid is as stupid does.’”

He placed a hand over his heart, laughing, “You wound me! Truly I swear to you, most of my friends think I’m a pretty decent bloke. Give me a chance to prove it to you!”

Frankie laughed. This guy was actually pretty entertaining. “Listen. I don’t even know your name. And furthermore, I’m only here for the night, subbing in for a friend, so if you think now you have an in with a bartender, you don’t. And lastly, it takes more than being rescued from some drunk, or a few words of Shakespeare, to get anywhere with me, if that is in fact your aim. Seriously, dude, if you’re looking to get laid, there are far easier targets at the other end of the bar.” Frankie gestured to the bachelorette parties, both of which were clearly intoxicated beyond reason.

The man threw his head back and laughed, clearly enjoying Frankie’s diatribe. Finally he took another drink, considering his words. “Darling, I’m not interested in easy, so first things first: my name’s Tom. And secondly, what do I have to do to buy you a drink and see where things go?”

Frankie grinned, as she poured another round of shots for the bachelorette party. Finally she said, “Tell you what, _Tom,”_ annunciating his name, “If you are still here when my relief gets here, I’ll play you for a drink. One round of darts, and if you win, you can buy me a drink. If I win, you leave me alone. Deal?”

Tom grinned as he leaned over the bar, shaking her proffered hand. “Deal. But I only make deals with people when I know their names. Yours is?”

“Frankie.” She grinned back at him. This night had just taken a most interesting turn indeed, she mused to herself.


End file.
